


Deniability

by SnorkleShit



Series: Lovability [2]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Death Threats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Friends to Lovers, Gang Rape, Gangsters, Hurt/Comfort, Jake just wants to help, M/M, Misunderstandings, Molestation, Multi, Organized Crime, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Pre-Slash, Sexual Abuse, Stalking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7197305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnorkleShit/pseuds/SnorkleShit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the de-aging incident, Ezekiel becomes increasingly frustrated with how the others are treating him. Especially Jake. Like he's somehow breakable.</p><p>When Ezekiel's past catches up to him, a misunderstanding between the two of them leads to dire consequences, and he realizes just how breakable he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> SOUNDTRACK FOR THIS SERIES:
> 
> http://8tracks.com/snorkletuckington/you-don-t-know-what-it-s-like-for-someone-else-to-own-you

It had been almost a month since the whole de-ageing incident, and Ezekiel was going to blow his damned brains out. There was no way he could stand this. Everyone, even Flynn, was treating him like he was breakable. Walking on eggshells, pretending like they were perfectly fine. They were all horrible actors, really. 

Cassandra and Eve both got all sad on him, giving him these awful heartbroken looks when they thought he wasn’t looking. Jenkins and Flynn were just awkward, as if they just didn’t know what to do around him anymore. Jenkins was acting the least weird, his behavior was more a sense of defeat. But he was the easiest to be around, for sure. Probably because it didn’t seem to phase him quite as much as it did the others. He’d been through a lot, Ezekiel knew, he had probably seen more than his fair share of...undesirable childhoods. It felt like a breath of fresh air, to be around just Jenkins, compared to the others. So when he had to be at the LIbrary, he found himself spending more time than ever with the caretaker. It was just easier. 

 

Otherwise, he was now spending as much time as physically possible away from the Library. Which sucked, because he was just starting to really love being around the place. Just perfect timing. The Library was just starting to feel comfortable, to feel like he belonged, when this shit happened. Totally bullshit! All of it. He knew that this gig would meet it’s maker in some way or another.

The worst of it was by far Jake, however. God, Ezekiel couldn’t handle it. Jake wouldn’t even look at him at all. Jake was avoiding him harder than he was avoiding the others. Jake wouldn’t stand close to him, go near him, let alone nudge or touch him. He never got angry at him, he never gave him weird or angry or confused looks. They didn’t banter, Jake practically didn’t even speak to him. 

Jenkins didn’t understand it either.

“I have no idea what reason he has to act so differently from how the others are acting, in light of the event. Perhaps he has outlying reasoning for how he feels.” Jenkins mused, as he saudered a very old looking metal contraption. A frustrated Ezekiel sat moping on a barstool at his bench. Ezekiel found himself spending a lot of time in Jenkins’ lab. He kept expecting Jenkins to get mad at him or demand space, but Jenkins only seemed to welcome him. Another strange thing to add to the list.

“I suggest asking him, Mr. Jones. Human communication skills are not so nebulous a concept as one might be lead to believe.” The ex-knight advised, watching his line of fire with close precision. Ezekiel muttered indistinctly, with a better huff. 

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Jenkins sighed himself, straightening up and turning the gun off. He turned to look at Ezekiel, cocking an eyebrow.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen, from you just asking him?” The immortal asked.

“He could hear me!” Ezekiel exclaimed. “Worse, he could answer me!” 

“Oh, i’m sure. Absolutely horrible result.” Jenkins said dryly. Ezekiel stuck out his tongue. Jenkins looked affronted, and straightened his shoulders.

“Why is it that you are somehow more childish than your child counterpart?” Jenkins demanded, before he knew better. He regretted it soon after it left his mouth. Ezekiel did his best not to react visibly.

“Oh, you know why. Don’t play dumb.” He snapped. Jenkins rolled his eyes, adopting the casual atmosphere as a sign of solidarity.

“Says he who refuses to admit emotional confrontation isn’t a death sentence.” 

“You don’t know what! I could get so upset I have a heart attack and die!” Ezekiel protested.

“You’re 26!” Jenkins exclaimed. 

“Yeah, well, you’re like 3000 and you can still swordfight. Back off. Some of us get the stick end of that deal. Especially us Librarians.” Ezekiel countered. 

“Well, avoid the confrontation all you want. However, do not go about complaining about his behavior if you refuse to take steps to remedy the situation.” Jenkins said, adopting a serious tone.

“Why should I have to be the one to remedy anything?” Ezekiel exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

\----------------

Finally, after a mission full of Jake looking at his shoes instead of Ezekiel, the thief had had enough. Cassandra gave him a pitying look as they both watched Jake hurry out of the Annex. Eve went on about what a good job they’d done, but Ezekiel wasn’t listening. He followed out the door the art historian had gone through. Ezekiel just had to grit his teeth, and go for it, no matter how unsavory.

He found Jake in their little headquarters, which Ezekiel had been avoiding using. He had tech other places, after all. Jake was leaning over the farthest corner of his counter in his part of the room, scraping something off of something, for some reason. He had what looked like a scalpel in his hand, and Ezekiel recognized the object as something Jake had found in Nepal on one of their missions. Not magical, but important, historically or whatever.

“Hey, Stone.” Ezekiel called from the doorway. Jake visibly froze. Then he slowly stood straight, but he didn’t turn towards the door.

“Yeah?” Jake replied. Ezekiel narrowed his eyes, and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. Fuck, he hated things like this. Emotions and openness and what not. But...Jenkins might be right. He had to try and make things a little more bearable.

“We need to, uh, talk.” Ezekiel said, stepping another step closer to Jake’s part of the room. 

“About what?” Jake asked, setting the scalpel tool in a pile of various tools. 

“What’s your problem, mate?” Ezekiel decided to just outright demand, crossing his arms. This startled Jake, causing him to finally turn towards Ezekiel. But instead of looking at him, he looked to the side. 

“What problem?” He asked, looking at the ground as if it were somehow intensely interesting. Ezekiel felt a stab of annoyance. 

“Look, I know after tiny tot me was running around for a while, everyone’s got their knickers in a twist feeling sorry for me. Which is annoying, but you know, what do you expect. But _you_ -” Ezekiel huffed, gesturing to him. “You won’t even look at me! You won’t yell at me, you only talk to me if you need to, you have to stay ten miles away from me wherever we are. You’ve been bailing more than I have! I’m the one who’s supposed to be avoiding people! What the fuck is your problem?” Ezekiel demanded angrily. Jake looked at him for a moment, frowning and furrowing his brow at the accusation, before his eyes went up towards the ceiling. That look was the first direct contact Ezekiel had gotten from him in what felt like forever.

“I don’t have a problem.” He said firmly. 

“Bullshit! The others aren’t acting like this, you’ve got something going on, and you’re going to tell me what!” Ezekiel verbally put his foot down. Jake’s eyes finally dragged down, to stay on him for good. He had all sorts of emotions Ezekiel couldn’t read behind his irises. Jake was silent for a moment, considering everything. He noticed that the tone of Ezekiel’s voice, his expression, the way he wasn’t taking no for an answer - it was just like in the video game loop. 

_I’m not your friend, but you’re all my friends,_ rang suddenly through Jake’s mind. He swallowed past a lump in his throat, crossing his arms. 

“The others...don’t know what I know.” Jake said slowly, watching Ezekiel’s face screw up in further confusion.

“What? Cassandra told me you know about the permission thing, so what would-” He asked, but Jake cut him off.

“You broke a vase.” He said bluntly, trying to move towards the subject quickly, no matter how his skin was crawling. A tightness blossomed in his throat. Ezekiel blinked.

“What?” He asked. Jake glanced towards the counter next to them, where said vase had been sitting, as the event replayed in his mind. 

“You, uh, accidentally knocked over a greek vase. That one from Athens, remember?” He asked.

“I broke that? Uh, sorry, I guess. Didn’t have my perfect reflexes back then.” Ezekiel apologized, remembering how excited Jake had been over the find.

“It was an accident, but I was a little upset, and....you, uh...you tried to...make it up to me.” Jake glanced back at Ezekiel, before looking down at the floor again. His voice was tight, and he struggled to form words without too much emotion attached. He failed. 

Ezekiel’s eyes widened, and his blood ran cold as he realized what Jake was saying. The whole world suddenly seemed to crumble out from under him, revealing a dark oblivion, the gravity of the situation tugging at him as his mind reeled. Jake knew. Jake knew what Ezekiel had been trying his whole life to forget. Worse yet, he saw him like that, back when he’d been nothing. A pathetic, eager to please, spineless little brat that didn’t know any better. 

“D-did I…?” He heard himself asking, in a distant, uncharacteristically weak voice. Maybe the reason Jake couldn’t look at him was because he’d done something -

“What? No! No, of course not. I wouldn’t let you, I wouldn't’...I wouldn’t do something like _that_.” Jake exclaimed, in disgust. 

Suddenly, it all clicked. The others knew he was pitiful, now, but only Jake knew he was pathetic. No wonder he couldn’t stand to look at him, be near him. Pathetic and disgusting, and now Jake knew, and there was nothing Ezekiel could do about it. The great big emptiness inside of him ached, his stomach churned, and he suddenly felt ten years older. His skin crawled with memories of hands all over him, hands Jake could plainly see now. 

“I understand.” Ezekiel said, swallowing past the dryness in his mouth. He turned and headed as quickly as possible out the door. Jake made no move to stop him. 

He headed quickly through the Annex, pulling out his phone and dialing in on his very own apartment. He didn’t bother to say goodbye to Cassandra or Eve. He had to get out of here, was all he could think.

Once he was safe in his own home - a nice apartment, not too extravagant, mostly empty - he started pacing back and forth. This couldn’t be happening. _Fuck!_

 

He’d finally settled down somewhere, finally started to think this could be a home. Started think these people could be the family he liked to pretend he’d never had. And now it was all ruined. Ruined, just like he was. He should leave, he should run away. Start over, go back to what he did best. He had always said he was going to leave when it stopped being fun. And it certainly had stopped being that.

He entertained the idea for all of one split second, before he gave up on it. He knew he couldn’t do that. There was no way he could bail. He’d never admit it, but he was with these people until the end. With the Library until the end. But now - now there was no chance they’d ever respect him, ever really love him. Especially not Jake. God, Jake probably thought he was the most pathetic thing on the planet. Which he probably was, who was he kidding? 

How was he supposed to go on like this? This was going to be absolutely unbearable! Exposed like this, they were going to give him nothing but pity and disgust and awkward fucking tension for the rest of his days. Everything was _ruined_!

Ezekiel suddenly started to feel dizzy, and he realized he hadn’t been breathing at all. He stopped, head spinning. Then he slowly turned his back to the wall of his living room, and slid down it. Why couldn’t he have this? Why couldn’t he have had the perfect life, adventure, saving the world, people he cared about and a home to come back to at the end of the day. Awesome fights, magic, stealing for a reason other than just because, the way Eve used to look at him...it had been perfect. And now it was ruined. And there was no way he could ever leave. Is this what normal people felt like? Bound by...caring? And responsibility? It was just as horrible as he’d always imagined. 

He slammed his head back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut against dark memories and miserable predictions for a bleak future. He wanted to punch his pre-teen self in the face. What a little bitch.


	2. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezekiel's father tracks him down, and he must make a decision.

The next few weeks went by in the most miserable capacity Ezekiel had ever experienced. Cassandra’s eyes welled with tears almost every time he looked at her. Eve was getting very annoyed with Ezekiel and Jake not talking. It was apparently affecting their team work. 

Ezekiel tried to keep himself preoccupied from the awkward workspace by spending all his down time out partying. Portland had some surprisingly fun clubs. One night, he came home half drunk, chuckling to himself over a joke as he shut his apartment door and flicked on the lights. When he did so he froze near instantly.

There was someone sitting on his couch. A man, white, bald, with tattoos up his arms and over his scalp. He was lanky, in a wife beater and sweatshirt. He had bags under his beady eyes, and smiled up at Ezekiel. Ezekiel’s blood ran cold. He knew that face too well. 

“Well, well. The prodigal son. You’ve really done well for yourself, haven’t you, Jones?” The man asked, in a raspy, amused tone. As if he was a cat, and Ezekiel was the mouse he intended to play with before killing. Ezekiel balled his free hand into a fist. He clenched his jaw, putting himself into emergency mode. Keep it cool, analyze the situation.

“What are you doing here, Kevin?” Ezekiel demanded, flicking his eyes around the room. Kevin narrowed his eyes.

“You know that’s not my name. Call me Dread or i’ll remind you of the time we spent together. Remember our special alone time, kid? When your daddy wasn’t home, and didn’t even know?” Kevin snarled. 

Ezekiel’s chest tightened, and he was glad his hand was clenched, or it may have begun to tremble. Memories started to surface in his mind, memories he desperately shoved away. He couldn’t let trauma cloud his judgement right now. 

“I’m not a little kid anymore, _Kevin_.” Ezekiel said seriously, shoving his phone and keys into his pocket to free both his hands. “If you touch me, i’ll snap your fucking neck. Get out of my apartment or i’ll do worse.” He commanded, stepping forward. Dread stood, cracking his boney neck. He still looked like he knew something Ezekiel didn’t. Ezekiel’s heart was threatening to beat itself into cardiac arrest.

“Oh, Ezekiel. So dumb, but so pretty. I’ve missed you, kid. And so’s your dad. He wants you home. Wants you to take over the business.” Kevin announced. Kevin absently reached into his sweatshirt pocket, and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Lights. 

“ _What?_ ” Ezekiel exclaimed. He took another aggressive step forward. “How’d my father even _find me_?” 

Kevin took out a cig, put the pack back in his pocket. He then removed a lighter, and casually lit the cigarette. After he’d taken a long drag and blown it out right in Ezekiel’s face, then he decided to reply.

“Jackson.” Was all he said.

“Jackson? How the fuck did that idiot find me?” Ezekiel demanded. 

“He’s a conspiracy nut, remember? Didn’t he get you into it?” Dread asked. Ezekiel blinked.

“So?” He asked. 

“Well, Jackson has gotten really into the internet since you departed. And he was on some conspiracy nut website about magic,” Kevin took a long drag again, and shrugged as he blew out. Ezekiel felt a little nauseous at the smell. It reminded him of very bad things. That’s why he’d always avoided tobacco, and tobacco smokers. “And guess who's face he saw?” 

Ezekiel’s stomach started to churn harder, as his mind rapidly jumped to conclusions. “Mine?” He realized. 

“Bingo! You. And you’re pretty little friends. You’ve been real busy since you left, haven’t you? Running around with a mysterious group that’s obviously involved in something big, calling yourself Librarians? I mean, really, what kind of code name is that?” Kevin asked condescendingly. 

“It’s not a code name.” Was all Ezekiel could think to reply. Kevin scoffed.

“Whatever. The point is, your father and all of us really looked into this thing. Some people on some conspiracy theory forum spotted you guys a bunch around the Portland area. Your father made a few calls, and guess what he found?” 

Ezekiel suddenly regretted not renting this apartment with an alias, as he’d first thought to. 

“That’s right. The one and only Ezekiel Jones, living in the Crystal Moon Premium Living Complex, in pretty little Oregon. Your father made a few more calls. Found out about the MI6 debacle. Tried to play spy for a while, did you?” Dread inquired in an amused tone. Ezekiel ground his teeth together. 

“What’s your point, asshole?” Ezekiel demanded, ignoring the question. 

“The point is that your father is impressed. He can see how you’ve grown. Now he wants you to pay your dues, and use those gifts to help support the family business.” Kevin announced. Ezekiel stared at him for a long time, wrapping his brian around the words. 

“ _Dues?_ ” Ezekiel practically shouted, in complete hysterical outrage. “Dues? He abused me, he isolated me, he let a bunch of fucking low lives rape me for my whole fucking childhood, what _dues_!” 

Dread’s face screwed up. “Oh, stop fucking whining, you little bitch. He made you what you are! You’d be nothing without him!” 

“He did _not_ make me!” Ezekiel denied angrily. He stabbed himself in the chest with his index finger, leaning forward. “I made me! He can fuck off back to hell!” 

“You really think he’ll let you go?” Kevin demanded. Ezekiel froze, reality reintroducing logical fear. “Your father knows where you are now. He will come after you, he will find you, and he’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” 

Ezekiel felt the pit of his stomach fall out, and a vast abyss threatened to swallow him whole. Absolute, complete terror. He had to go, to run. Get as far away from here as possible, burn his bridges, change his name, start over. Then he’d be safe. 

Then he snapped out of instinct, and remembered everything. The Library. Eve, Jenkins, Jake, Cassandra. He couldn’t leave them. He couldn’t run. If he couldn’t run, he had nowhere to be safe from his father. His father knew where to find him now. He had to think logically, he had to play diplomat. He tried to take the aggression out of his stance. He pursed his lips.

“What -” He cleared his throat. “What does my father want?” He asked, as clearly as he could.

“What your father always wants. Help. Money. Help getting more money. And you seem to have gotten very, very good at that. Beyond even your father. He humbly admits you’ve surpassed him, and that he’s proud of you.” Kevin said, as if reciting something he’d memorized. Ezekiel blinked, taken aback by that.

“He’s...proud of me?” Ezekiel asked, almost unable to comprehend the concept. 

“Yup. And look, kid. We aren’t talking about the way things used to be. You’re an adult, and you’ve clearly surpassed him. He knows he can’t get you under his thumb again. He just feels like you owe us a little repayment for making you what you are. Go joint with us for a few jobs, help us out a little. Boost business. Not forever. Just a few pick me ups here and there, you know? Then we’re square, and he’s proud to watch you go on to wherever you’re going. You’ve made it, kid.” Kevin put his lighter out on the couch, and then moved to stand next to a shocked Ezekiel. He grinned. 

“Now you’ve just got to thank your sponsors, and you’ll be home free. And you’re father won’t have to come out here and take what he’s due, capiche?” Dread asked. Ezekiel weighed his options in his head, before he swallowed his terror and nodded.

“Fine. What does he want first?” Ezekiel asked. If he pulled off just a few partnerships on jobs, what was the home. They’d get their money, he’d only have to deal with them for a little, and then he’d be home free. No trouble. 

“For you to meet him. Back in Melbourne. Saturday, at noon. Same house, same kitchen.” Kevin informed him. Ezekiel swallowed past the lump in his throat. 

“Fine. I’ll be there. Now get out of my fucking apartment.” Ezekiel snarled, stepping aside and pointing at the door. Dread laughed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The minute he was past the door, Ezekiel slammed it and locked it. Then he sat heavily down on his couch, and put his head in his hands, trying to breath again. This couldn’t be happening. 

\-----------

That Saturday, after a minor mission, Ezekiel was gone through the Back Door before anyone could even ask him where he was going. 

He came out in one of the many banks in Melbourne, through the door of the supply closet. He pulled his jacket closer around him, and made his way to the street to call a taxi. He told the driver the address as easily as if he’d just been there yesterday. In truth, it’d been ten years since he’d been to his father’s home. Since around the time he’d gotten his first letter from the Library. In fact, Ezekiel had never told anyone, but he was pretty sure it was that letter that was responsible for his finally running away. He remembered getting it, staring down at the glowing letters, thinking what an interesting magic trick it was. And something, way back in the corners of his mind, had clicked on. He wasn’t sure what, but the letter, although a hoax, had reminded him of something. Of what, he didn’t know. He couldn’t quite remember it. But ever since that, he had started to question his father more and more, until he finally realized what was going on. 

He found his heart pounding and sweat pooling in the corners of his jacket as they got closer and closer to his childhood home. He recognized the streets, and it pulled him back into memory lane. Flash after flash of pain and fear pulled themselves up to the front of his mind, and he had to take a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 

They finally pulled up in front of his old house, and he stared up at the towering abode. He shakily paid the driver, and climbed out. He stood alone at the curb long after the taxi had sped away. He clenched his arms against his ribcage by raising his shoulders, so he could feel the pistol wedged in his old holster, under his armpit. He’d brought it, just in case. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, he forced his feet to move. He forced his feet to go towards the porch steps, one after another. He could do this. He just had to pull this off, stay calm and on guard. Just a couple times, and it would be over. With no bloodshed. He could do this, damnit, he was a Librarian. All his friends may think he’s pathetic or delicate, now, but he wasn’t. He was as hard as steel, he could face the man that had made him this way. 

He stepped up on the porch, wincing on instinct as the floorboards creaked beneath him. Then he reached for the doorknob. The minute he touched it, he froze. It was like he was having a nightmare, and everything was getting dark around him as he stared at the door. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t face him, any of them, he couldn’t do this. Maybe he could run. Go get a place in Russia, but his own backdoor in from his apartment to the Library. No, no, that would raise suspicion. He couldn’t let his friends know he was dealing with this. It would make everything worse. 

No, this was the smartest course of action. And he was smart! He was a Librarian. He’d faced worse than this. He’d faced minotaurs and wizards and dragons! He could face his own father. So what, his father practically had an army. Ezekiel had magic. He could take him if needed. There was no way his father could hurt him. This was just to get him off his back. And then everything would be fine. 

He took a deep breath, and steeled himself. Then he pushed open the door.

No one stood behind it, it led into the dark and cluttered hallway of his childhood home. It hadn’t changed in ten years. It loomed in front of him, terrifying, seeming to stretch out to perceive and impossible distance. 

He shook his head, and stepped over the threshold. He clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling. He walked through the hallway, letting his feet lead the way via muscle memory while he mentally prepared. 

He rounded the lightened doorway he knew lead to the kitchen, and there he was. Ezekiel froze in the doorway, throat closing up. 

A group of men all turned to look at him, and he recognized all but two. They smiled at him, like predators on the move. In the middle, at the chipped table, sat his father. More wrinkles, more gray in his hair, but just as toned, with just as sharp of eyes. His face crinkled as he smiled widely, standing up and holding out his arms. 

“Hello, my son. I’ve missed you!” He exclaimed happily. Ezekiel felt like he was going to throw up. He did not move. Ezekiel’s father let his hands drop, gesturing to the other side of the table.

“Please, take a seat. Let’s catch up. You’ve been up to a lot since we’ve last seen each other, haven’t you, my boy?” His father asked, in a heavy Australian accent. Ezekiel swallowed, glancing to the men on each side warily as he slowly moved to sit down across from his father. His skin felt cold and clammy, and he hoped he didn’t look as pale as he felt. 

His father sat as well, smiling at him. “How have you been?” He asked. As if this were a completely normal conversation. Ezekiel swallowed his anger, but let a little bit out.

“Wonderful, ever since I left your abusive, idiotic ass.” He said boldly, glaring at his father. All the men straightened up, tensing. Some of them moved forward, raising their fists. But Ezekiel’s father raised his hand dismissively, chuckling as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Oh, Ezekiel. They always said you have a mouth on you, didn’t they?” His father laughed, eyes darkening. Ezekiel tried not to react to that, maintaining his glare. 

“Well, feel however you want to feel. But everyone knows I did you a favor. I made you what you are. And if you repay that debt, you’ll never have to see me ever again.” His father promised easily. Ezekiel narrowed his eyes.

“Really?” He asked, wondering if he should dare hope. 

“Of course! You know i’m a simple guy. Times are tough lately. We could use your expertise to grease the wheels a little. And then we can part ways as even.” His father said, spreading his hands apart. Ezekiel stared at him for a moment, before glancing around the room at the different men. He weighed his options in his head. But as logical as it was … he just couldn’t bare to be back around his abusers again.

“No. That’s ridiculous. After what you did to me? I don’t care what you do to me, I’m not going to help you.” Ezekiel snarled, crossing his arms. 

His father sat up straight, narrowing his eyes at Ezekiel. Gauging him. Then he pulled out a smartphone, and pressed a few things on it. Then he slide the phone over to Ezekiel.

“Read through that, then see how you feel.” His father said. Ezekiel hesitantly grabbed the phone, pulling it over. 

On it, he saw something that made his throat catch. Pictures of his friends, pictures of Jenkins, even of Flynn. And underneath them, in the document, listing their names, addresses, phone numbers, past addresses, professions, family members. He stared down at the screen, horrified, as the truth sunk in on him. His father must have seen it, because he smiled in satisfaction.

“See? It’s not about what I do to you. It’s about what I do to your new friends. You think I could find you, and I couldn't figure out who your weaknesses where?” His father asked. 

Ezekiel shut his gaping mouth, and sat back in his chair. He came to his decision.

“So,” He asked, as evenly as he could. “ What’s your first wheel that needs greased?”


	3. Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions between Jake and Ezekiel finally come to a head.

Ezekiel felt like he was going to fall apart at any moment, fracture into shards and rain onto the floor in a shower of sharp edges. He was keeping himself together with raw willpower, which he never seemed to run out of. 

He’d spent the last week with his father and his _goons_ , on edge and more tense than he’d ever been in his life. He had to always be on his guard, in case they tried anything. 

And when he wasn’t running jobs with the old crew, constantly in fear they’d try to overpower him, he had to act normal around his friends who totally saw him as too pathetic to be _their_ friend. They were ashamed of him. They’d be even more ashamed of him, if they knew he was letting his father boss him around like a little bitch again. Ah, the things people did when they were in love. And that’s what he was. In love with all of them, unable to leave them. What an injustice. 

A bird caged within his own heart. At the slightest brush of James’ hand, James being one of the oldest goons who used to come up into his room at night, Ezekiel would practically fly out of his skin. They made a point of teasing him, touching him in innocent places when he wasn’t looking, putting him instantly on the offensive while they just laughed. They all just laughed at him, like when they used to. He never looked them in the eyes, unless it was to threaten them. 

He couldn’t help but relive some of the most prominent memories of them as they grinned and whispered lewd things just to make him nauseous. Flashes of being a child, helpless and terrified. Sometimes pushed onto the ground, sometimes pushed on top of their poker table. They’d always laughed. Those laughs had haunted him the longest, probably. Alone in alleyways on the street after running away, always hearing echoes of it and crawling out of his skin. Waiting for someone, anyone, to come and take him apart when he wasn’t looking. 

It had taken so long to shove the feeling of them inside of him away, and now he was right back where he started. Laying awake at night, skin crawling and itching. Tossing and turning in his sleep, feeling their hands all around him. Suffice it to say, sleep became less of a priority. He had to keep it together, just for a little longer. Then his father would be gone forever, and he could go back to talking to the brick walls that had replaced his friends. 

Eve soon got tired of the work environment, and decided to kill it at it’s core. Which was Jake and Ezekiel.

“North California, Jenkins thinks it’s some ghouls infesting the sewers. Don’t come back till you’ve worked out your problems.” Eve commanded them, and then forcibly shoved them through the back door before they could protest. They both stumbled out onto the street, glancing at each other uncomfortably. Jake straightened his jacket. 

“We can be professionals.” Jake said, giving him a nod of respect. But he didn’t look him in the eyes as he did. Ezekiel straightened up. Maybe this wouldn’t be awful. 

“Of course. We’re Librarians, mate. Let’s save the day.” He said, cracking a classic Ezekiel grin. Jake nodded, and they went off.

The mission went better than either of them expected. They weren’t the worst team, and it seemed Jake had really pulled it together and was trying to treat Ezekiel normally. He even gave him a few glares and they even got in an argument. The tension between them as they bickered was like a breath of fresh air to Ezekiel. He was in the best mood he’d been in in weeks when they broke the love spell some asshole had over the whole town, and ran him out of dodge. 

“Another one in the can, I guess.” Ezekiel announced smugly as the strolled down the street, away from the crowd of confused people trying to figure out how they’d gotten there. Best to let them sort themselves out.

“Don’t get cocky, Jones. We’re not always going to win so easily.” Jake said, trying to keep his usual serious tone, but unable to not smile in pride as well. 

Ezekiel stuck his hands in his pockets. “Whatever. You know I always come out on top.” He said smugly. Jake laughed first, but then his face went pale, and he looked away from Ezekiel, not replying. Tension filled his frame. Ezekiel’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach as he realized what Jake was thinking about. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. They kept walking in silence for a few minutes.

“Man, you really took those henchmen down slowly. You losing your touch, aren’t you?” Ezekiel tried to jeer, hoping to spur that familiar indignant anger from the other man. But he got nothing of the sort. Jake just shrugged.

“Maybe.” He said nondescriptly.

Ezekiel stopped walking, rolling his eyes and groaning. “ _God!_ I can’t even hold one conversation with you anymore!” 

Jake stopped ahead of him, turning to face him and furrowing his brow. Jake looked at him for a whole half a second, before shifting back and forth on his feet and looking away. 

“I - I don't know what you want from me. I'm just trying to be respectful. Some people value respect, Jones!” Jake said, voice tight. 

Ezekiel heart ached in his chest. He balled his hands into fists. 

“I want you to treat me like I'm me! Not like I'm some scandal you’re afraid to talk about. Not like I'm that kid you met! None of that matters now, I'm still the same Ezekiel you met when we got here!” Ezekiel practically shouting, throwing his hands in the air. His throat got tight, that feeling of restrained tears. He tried to only let the anger out, but the pain tagged along. “Now you know why I didn't give you guys my fucking stupid story, I knew you’d treat me like this if you found out how pathetic I am!” 

Jake whipped to finally fix his gaze completely on Ezekiel, his eyes wide. 

“Wait, pathetic? Is that what you think-” He started to ask in alarm, but was interrupted by a loud siren blaring from Ezekiel’s phone. Ezekiel jumped, scrambling to pull it out. It was one of those cheesy loud gimmick ringtones. _WARNING! WARNING! THE DEVIL IS CALLING!_ rang out in a man’s voice between sirens. Before Jake’s eyes, Ezekiel turned white as a sheet. 

“I need to take this, go back to the Annex without me!” Ezekiel snapped, spinning on his heel and walking into the small alley between the nearest two buildings. 

Jake watched him go in confusion. Guilt bubbled up in his throat. Did Ezekiel really think that Jake thought he was pathetic? Was that really the vibe Jake had been broadcasting this whole time? He had never meant to make him think that…

He should do as Ezekiel said, and go away. It seemed like he was only making everything worse.

But if he left now Ezekiel might take it as confirmation that he _did_ think Ezekiel was pathetic. No, he couldn't leave now. They had to talk about this. Apparently, he’d been silent too long. 

He hurried in the way Ezekiel had gone, taking long, intense strides. Ezekiel wasn’t in sight down the straight shoot of the alley, but Jake could hear talking coming from around the corner. The alley wrapped around the building and ran back behind the entire row of stores. 

Just before he turned to corner, he heard something that made him stop and press himself to the wall.

“-I _told_ you, i’d be there as soon as I was done with what i’m doing. And now i’m done, and i’ll be over there! I am an adult, and I have my own life, and I am only helping you because I want to, father! So if you think you can -” Ezekiel was hissing into the phone, but then something from the other line cut him off. Jake’s eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. The world as he knew it screeched to a halt. _Father_. Ezekiel was talking to his father. His abusive rapist father. Jake felt like his brain was blue screening.

Why would he be talking to his father? Jake had assumed he’d run from his father, or that his father had been arrested, or even killed! It had never occurred to him that the bastard was still in Ezekiel’s life! What the hell happened to _no ties to anyone or anything in the real world?_

Willingly spending time with your rapist father sure seemed like a pretty big fucking tie!

“I’m sorry.” Ezekiel said, in a _very_ un-Ezekiel tone. It was the kind of tone that Jake expected to hear from a child that was being scolded, not an arrogant thief who thought the world was his playground. It shook something deep in Jake. “Please, just - i’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise, you know i’ve got magic. Tell James to keep his shit together for five more minutes, and I’ll be there.” He said, as if trying to appease his father now, instead of demanding respect like earlier. 

The bastard must be saying something back. Jake narrowed his eyes as he tried to strain his ears towards the static mumbling sound of the phone. But he was too distracted to realize Ezekiel had already hung up before it was too late. The thief came around the corner, stopping in shock, face to face with a wide eyed Jake. Caught red-handed.

“Where you _eavesdropping?_ What the hell, mate?!” Ezekiel practically shouted, taking a step away from him in offense. Jake straightened up, just staring at Ezekiel as he tried to pull a response from the whirlwind of his mind. He felt like all the blood had been drained out of him.

“Why were you talking to that monster? Why are you going to see him? What the hell, Jones?” Jake spluttered, still trying to wrap his brain around the concept.

Ezekiel visibly swallowed, and balled his hands into fists. “So first you won’t acknowledge I exist and now you’re sticking your nose into my business?” He demanded, voice tight.

Jake waved his hand down the alley, growing increasingly flustered as he started to realize the gravity of the situation. “And why the _hell_ does he know about magic! What are you doing with him? Is he hurting you? Are you spying on us for him?” Jake asked, a thousand possibilities popping into his head. 

“Really?” Ezekiel practically shouted. “That’s really what you fucking think of me? After everything we’ve been through together you still think i’m some pathetic lowlife? I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius!” 

“Well, i’m sorry! I’m just - i’m confused, I don’t understand! You seem so- what am I supposed to think? He obviously still has control over you!” Jake pointed out. Ezekiel’s jaw visibly clenched.

“No, he doesn’t! I’m only helping him with some things here and there because I want to.” Ezekiel informed him reluctantly, through gritted teeth. Jake’s brow furrowed even more.

“What? How could you want to? He’s an abusive, manipulative rapist!” Jake hissed, face turning red in some cocktail of anger, alarm, disbelief and horror.

That seemed to be the last straw for the thief. His face contorted, and a darkness entered his eyes. He seemed to harden, as if his bones became steel and his skin became iron. The heat of molten metal surely pumped through his veins.

“You really need to stop talking about things you obviously don’t understand.” Ezekiel practically snarled. “My father is a lot of things, but he is _not_ a rapist!” 

Jake blinked. “Are you in denial, or does that just mean-” He started to ask, but he was cut off by Ezekiel knocking into his shoulder on his way past.

“I’m not arguing with you anymore, I need to go.” Ezekiel snapped as he moved to storm away. Jake’s panic and confusion lashed out in the form of his hand wrapping around Ezekiel’s wrist, jerking him back. Ezekiel spun around to face him, tense as he glared down at Jake’s fingers. Then his gaze snapped up to meet Jake’s and Jake had a moment of utter and complete regret as he realized he’d once again laid his hands on the other man. He let go of Ezekiel, pulling away from him as if his own harsh touch had burned.

Ezekiel straightened his jacket, glaring down the guilt ridden cowboy. “Don’t follow me. Give me a few minutes to go through the back door alone, or I swear to god, i’ll never go on a mission with you again.” Ezekiel said lowly, words an unwavering promise. Jake was frozen, helpless and ridden with remorse, as he watched the other man’s back turn to him.

He stayed still and silent as Ezekiel walked away from him, until the Australian was almost all the way to the end of the alley.

“Why won’t you tell me the truth?” Jake called, unable to restrain himself. Ezekiel paused, turning back to him, with that same simmering gaze. 

“Consider it plausible deniability.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving the so-called genius alone with all the things he could not comprehend.


	4. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezekiel's whole life finally makes sense. 
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SOME DARK SUBJECT MATTER, AND SOME DESCRIPTIONS OF NONCON AND CHILD ABUSE THAT ARE MORE GRAPHIC THAN WHAT I'VE BEEN WRITING THIS WHOLE SERIES, WHICH HAS BEEN PRETTY VAGUE. (It's still not extremely graphic, but it's less vague.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN WARNING! NON CON, CHILD ABUSE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION

When Ezekiel came through the back door after leaving the Annex in a rush to avoid questions, he found himself only a block away from his father’s house. As he walked down the street towards the misery awaiting him, he couldn't help but mull and worry over the situation he had just walked away from, and over the situation he was walking towards. 

Jake knew. But Jake assumed that his father was the end all evil, which wasn't good, because what if he told the others? Then they’d look into it and they'd get involved with his father and - he knew they could handle almost anything, but...there was still the chance they could get taken by surprise, that they could get hurt or killed somehow. It would be better just to deal with this on his own.

But hadn't it been long enough? He had helped them pull of countless heists at this point. His father had never specified a time the deal would end. The agreement had been Ezekiel would help him for a _while_. Ezekiel stood straighter as he walked, suddenly imbued with new confidence. He had helped them long enough. He had every right to walk in there, and say goodbye. And then this whole thing would be over with, he could tell Jake he’d cut it off with his father, and he wouldn’t have to worry about either side.

As he walked through the door to his father’s house, he held his head high. This place - it didn’t mean anything, he promised to himself. It couldn’t ever hurt him again. He wasn’t helpless, he was a Librarian, he was world class. He could take care of himself, he didn’t need to be afraid of a frail old man and his sleazy, bloodthirsty attack dogs. 

As he walked through the dark hall, there was no sign of any thugs milling around. That was the first sign that something was off. The second was the fact that his father was not waiting in the kitchen. This whole time, he had only gone as far as the kitchen into this damned house. He had only gone as far as he needed. 

He swallowed as he glanced farther down the shadowy hallway. The hairs on the back of his neck raised as he slowly started walking deeper into the bowels of the cluttered house. The next room was the bathroom - nothing. Nobody in the game room. Nobody in the living room. 

As he stood by the couch, with the only light coming from the shaded windows, he felt as if he was fighting to stay above the water of his own memory. He took a deep breath, and turned his head towards the farthest side of the room. There was one more room on this floor that he could look in, and it was the one place he never wanted to see again. 

He clenched his fists as he slowly forced his feet to approach the dimly lit outline of the heavy wooden door. In the wall next to the door, scattered bullet holes still allowed little holes of red light to leak through. They really didn’t bother to fix anything substantial around here, did they? 

The handle of the door was cold on his palm, and heavier than it looked. He pulled it open, whole body tense to avoid trembling like a leaf. He was a Librarian. He had faced minotaurs, fairies, fictional characters, dragons, madmen with magic, the end of the world. He could face his father’s den. The door creaked loudly as it opened, causing Ezekiel to wince. The sound alone brought back piles and piles of memories. In 20 years, he hadn’t oiled those hinges. 

The scene on the other side of the door was one so familiar, he felt like he was ten years old again. Red lamps around the room, casting light inwards towards a round green poker table. On the outer sides of the room, red couches framed the room. The stench of tobacco, booze and sex permeated the room so deeply, it could probably never be erased, even if someone wanted to. This room was the hubbub of the hedonistic lifestyle his father and their friends enjoyed. Smoking, drinking, pills, heroine, prostitutes, gambling. This was where all the magic happened. All the very dark, fucked up magic. 

Ezekiel swallowed, trying to hold his breath against the smell. His mind overtook him, and he was suddenly a kid again, having his face shoved down into that green matted table, the smell of cigarettes and blood clouding his senses as all his father’s men towered around the table, laughing at him as he cried. Dragging him roughly all across the table like he was a rag doll, ripping at his clothes and hitting him if he tried to get away. 

In the present, his father was sitting alone. He was reclined in the farthest corner of the room on one of the couches, with a cigarette in his hand. His eyes were hidden behind half moon reading glasses that were duct taped together. All the money in the world, and he lived in a place like this, and never replaced a necessity unless he was forced to. The only thing that mattered was pleasure, and power. His eyes were cast down into the middle of some crime novel, with a cheesy dime store cover. Ezekiel felt a sudden burst of hatred and resentment. 

His father had always taken up that same spot, in the far crevice of the room. He remembered how helpless he had felt, he remembered it suddenly as if it had happened yesterday. He remembered the feeling of them shoving themselves inside him, their hands all over him, while he screamed. He remembered seeing his father, in between the jeering bodies of the men around him, sitting in that same spot, smoking that same brand - Longbeach Rich - and reading a book as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He remembered begging his father to help him, to make it stop, and only then did his father acknowledge the situation in front of him. But instead of telling his men to get their hands off of his son, the man had glanced up, chuckled, and went back to his book. And so many years later, here his father sat, in nearly the same position. Some things really never change. 

“You’re too late. The boys already went for it. You better hope they come back in one piece.” His father said as way of greeting, casually threatening, without looking up from his book. Ezekiel rolled his eyes.

“Like you give a damn about them.” Ezekiel dismissed. His father looked up at him over the rim of his glasses at that, but then he smiled. He set down his book, chuckling.

“Ah, nobody understands me like you, son. I’ve missed that. Come, sit with me. I’m not that angry, you know i’m not.” His father invited pleasantly, gesturing at the seat next to him. Ezekiel didn’t budge from his spot. 

“Oh, right. You’re _never_ angry.” Ezekiel sneered bitterly, voice ringing with pain. “You’re only disappointed.” The biggest lie his father insisted on believing. 

“Oh, come now. Don’t act like a child. You’re an adult now, Ezekiel, you of all people know I did the best for you.” His father replied. Ezekiel’s swallowed thickly, throat dry and unyielding to reason. 

“Raping me wasn’t the _best thing_ for me. And you know it.” Ezekiel said, desperate to keep his voice from cracking. Ezekiel’s father sat up straighter, looking offended.

“I never touched you like that.” He said firmly. Ezekiel felt the resolve crack, and hot tears exploded out of his eyes.

 _“BUT YOU LET THEM!”_ Ezekiel felt himself scream, the words tearing out of his throat viciously. “You don’t think that’s even worse? What the fuck was wrong with you! I was just a kid! They _asked_ you if they could do whatever they wanted to me, and you always said _yes!_ What the fuck was wrong with you!” Ezekiel continued to shout, voice cracking and then falling apart like glass. Years and years he had kept this down, locked away, far away from the identity he’d spent so long building. 

His father stood, towering above him once again. But Ezekiel didn’t shrink away. He was a Librarian, he had faced worse than this. He could handle this. His father narrowed his eyes, wrinkles forming creases deeper than the Mariana Trench. Lines of tension and power and stress, drawn over the face of the man he was terrified to look like one day. Obviously, skin care hadn’t been a concern either. 

“Well, now you’re just exaggerating. I didn’t say yes _every_ time. Only when I knew it would help.” His father said pristinely. Ezekiel put his hands to his temples, resisting the urge to rip his own hair out. 

“HELP? How did - how - how did that _help_ me? What was _wrong_?” Ezekiel practically begged to understand. His whole life, he’d been asking that question. A sudden familiar rage overcame his father’s features, but he didn’t step away. 

“ _You_ were wrong!” His father hissed angrily. “You were too good! You were too weak!” 

Everything came screeching to a halt. In that moment, the world stopped spinning. The waves stopped rolling, the wind stopped whistling. His ears began to ring, as he felt like he was about to fall off the edge of the earth into a vast abyss of truth. Truth he’d sought too long, to be this afraid of it.

“What?” He breathed, as the blood slowly drained out of him. With every second, his heartbeat grew louder, and heavier. His father composed himself again, running a hand through the few gray hairs he had left. 

“Your mother was too weak, she died on me sooner than anyone expected. I couldn’t bear to watch the same thing ever happen to you. But the older you got, the more I knew I had to do something. You never acted like a normal kid, not even a normal baby! Kids are supposed to be chaotic, and greedy, and selfish, and disruptive! But you - you were always quiet, you were always docile. You were a pushover, a little brown noser, you were pathetic! Pathetic and weak! Everything I did - everything I allowed them to do - it was to teach you how the real world works in a controlled environment. It was to teach you to be strong. I was trying to teach you to fight, to stand up for yourself. To get up and take back what was taken, to take from others, to kill instead of be killed. Everything I did was to make you unbreakable.” His father exclaimed, with a fever in his voice Ezekiel had never heard before. 

Ezekiel stared at the man in front of him, as everything he had ever been sure of unraveled right before his eyes. He had no words, he could barely think. This couldn’t be real. His whole life - his _whole_ life was based off of a lie, a manipulation. This was wrong, everything was wrong. He’d thought he’d been rebelling, but really he’d only fulfilled his father’s wishes. Everything made a horrible, horrible, horrible sense all of the sudden. He felt like he was going to pass out, or vomit, whichever came first. 

His shock must have shown, because his father’s face softened. It adopted that classic look of pity and compassion, which he had been afforded only on the rarest of occasions. That look directed at him struck him even deeper, and he felt more tears well up into his eyes. His father moved forward slowly, bringing his arms up to wrap around Ezekiel, pulling him into the first hug he could ever remember receiving from the man. 

“Look at you now, Ezekiel. You are unbreakable. You’re strong, and a genius. You’re the best thief i’ve ever seen, you could get away with anything. You could rob this whole damned world blind. Nobody can ever take anything from you again. You discovered the truth about magic, which is something i’ve never dreamed of. I’m so proud of you, son.” His father said, voice so sincere it broke what was left of Ezekiel’s heart. He reached to grab onto his father’s shirt, clinging to him, basking in the approval and the affection he’d longed for his whole life, everything else forgotten. He couldn’t see it, but his father’s face morphed into a wicked smile as Ezekiel embraced him. 

Checkmate.


End file.
